


Trapped.

by Karlhann



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Empathy, F/M, Forensics, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Regret, Romance, Soulmates, Stalking, Tumblr Prompt, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, criminals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karlhann/pseuds/Karlhann
Summary: Ch. 1 : Game over (Shalnark x reader):“Whenever you woke up in the middle of the night, enveloped by sweaty sheets and trembling from a recurring nightmare, you immediately searched for Shalnark, blindly feeling for his hands, hoping for him to hug you tight and whisper the same words that had once made you panic (those sickening I love yous’).”Or, alternatively:A series of one-shots I have written in my tumblr page about some hunter x Hunter characters.The themes are diverse, and I will update this collection every once in a while!
Relationships: Feitan (Hunter X Hunter)/Reader, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Reader, Phinks (Hunter x Hunter)/Reader, Razor (Hunter x Hunter)/Reader, Shalnark (Hunter X Hunter)/Reader, Uvogin (Hunter x Hunter)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 326





	1. Game over. (Shalnark x reader)

Those past few months had been a nightmare for you. Surely, that was something many people would say after being kidnapped, for many different reasons. Even if your kidnapper, who introduced himself as Shalnark, was all smiles. 

You hadn’t been abused, at least not physically. Still, the underlying threat was present in every single one of his smiles, and the distress you felt whenever he would lock you up in a room made you want to struggle for the freedom you deserved. 

The first days, you had kicked and screamed whenever he tried to hold you close, and once you had even managed to scrape his face with your nails. He didn’t even wince, and overall, didn’t seem to be too bothered about your outbursts. He just smiled innocently, and with a sickening sweet voice, threatened to kill every single one of your family members before your very eyes. 

Of course, it would’ve been easy to give in to his desires. To let him cuddle with you and hug you, trapping your body between his arms while he breathed down your neck and whispered about how much he loved you. It could’ve been nice, falling into a trap of lies, forgetting who you once were and believing his words. Still, you could not forget, _would_ not forget, what you had once stood for. Your values, your morals, the ideas you had that conformed your personality. 

When you finally freed yourself from his grasp, you could not help the bubbly laughter that welled up your chest. The air was cold and bit your sweaty skin, but you did not mind. The rush of adrenaline was enough to make you forget physical pain, ignoring your screaming muscles and the cuts and bruises that littered your arms and legs from the run through the forest. This was the beginning of a new life, you were sure of it.

Now, while cleaning one of the tables of the coffee shop you were currently working in, you pondered over the last five weeks of independence you had experienced. It had been a bit difficult, as you had had no money at first, but you were not against the idea of sleeping inside the café, or even in motels that were easy to break into and where in the middle of nowhere. 

You had to admit, nighttime was the worst part of the day. It wasn’t only the growing paranoia you had experienced the first weeks after escaping, where you thought that Shalnark was still observing you: it was the feeling of loneliness that threatened to consume you. You could never admit it, but after the first fear filled weeks, you started missing your kidnapper. 

Whenever you woke up in the middle of the night, enveloped by sweaty sheets and trembling from a recurring nightmare, you immediately searched for Shalnark, blindly feeling for his hands, hoping for him to hug you tight and whisper the same words that had once made you panic (those sickening I love yous’). You understood those nights, much to your horror, that you longed for his presence. You wanted him to coddle you, to make you feel safe. Your body grew hot under your realisation, and you touched yourself as you would imagine him to, curious and daring (Caring, loving) while your soft moans filled the room you were staying at. 

You shook your head wildly, hoping to clear your mind. You could not think about those things. It was too late to go back now, and even if you had the possibility of returning to Shalnark, you would not do so. You were proud and he would not be granted the satisfaction of seeing you beg for forgiveness. What were you even thinking about? Had you forgotten already who you were dealing with? Although you missed him, you could not forget his hurtful ways, his threatening eyes, his poisoned words. _And still, while he said those things, he caressed your back or toyed with your hair, a look of pure devotion -_

No. 

He deserved no forgiveness. You wouldn’t grant him mercy, that was for sure. You had to settle your messy feelings once and for all, forget about him completely. 

“Hey, are you feeling alright?” A soft voice enquired, startling you. You dropped one of the cups you were carrying, and it shattered noisily, the fragments scattering all through the floor. 

You quickly apologised while stuttering. You had never felt so embarrassed. He laughed: a sweet, melodic sound, that caused you to flush even further. Looking into his eyes, you smiled. You had seen him before, but you didn’t know his name. Thankfully, his tag read “Francis”, and you introduced yourself, joking all the while, smiling genuinely. 

The both of you began an easygoing conversation, and his sense of humor made you laugh loudly once or twice. It was a matter of time before you were blushing happily. The prospect of having a friend thrilled you. Maybe, now that Shalnark was gone, you could imagine a life where you could depend on others without fearing for their lives. 

Your smile broadened. Francis was nice and caring. He didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, as no alarms were going off inside your head. Your instincts were pleasantly calm, something that you hadn’t felt in months (quite literally). 

When he knew about your current situation (the lack of money, the trespassing) he didn’t hesitate to offer you a place to sleep in. He invited you into his house, gave you anything you needed, asked if you were comfortable. He held such innocence you could feel your heart throb lovingly. He had the purest soul you had ever seen, and you felt yourself grow flustered once again. 

After dinner, he allowed you to sleep in his bed, while he took the sofa. You had argued with him for hours on end, but he didn’t seem fazed and instead moved out of his room to grant you space. You felt strangely moved. Changing into one of his loose shirts and covering yourself with the soft blankets, you felt sleep overcome you within seconds. The last feeling that you registered was that of comfortable contempt. 

Something was wrong. 

You knew that much as you opened you eyes. Everything seemed colder, and the room was poorly lit. The sun hadn’t risen yet. You looked at the clock next to you, and understood it was barely four in the morning. You sat up quickly, cold sweat running down your temples. You felt uncomfortable, and as you moved to get off the bed, that same sensation of danger gripped your heart tightly. 

The sudden urge to run _away_ chocked you, and then you saw him. 

Francis stood beside the door, perfectly still, watching your every movement. His stance was one of a predator, his eyes were not. They seemed to be distracted, far away, _absent._

What was happening? 

_What was wrong?_

You called out to him, and your voice cracked slightly. You suddently understood you were terrified, and this realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.

“I think you should go” he muttered, his tone betraying nothing, his gaze unfocused. Silence followed. You laughed nervously.

“Of course, I’ll leave now” every single nerve in your body was screeching at you to move and get away from this unexpected threat.

You stumbled across the room in a hurry, and then, as the moon glimmered through the skies and the figure of Francis became more visible, you saw something that froze your whole body in an instant: a shining object, stuck to his neck.

It resembled a demonic creature, red, vibrant plastic that contrasted oddly with Francis personality.

Of course, you _knew_ who was the owner of such needle. You also knew that Francis was no longer alive, and thus he wasn’t the one talking. He was being controlled by the manipulator you feared the most.

“I have been watching you for weeks” a chuckle “did you think I wouldn’t find you?” You were nearing an anxiety attack, you could feel it as your hysterical laughter began to claw its way up your throat. “I think it’s time for you to come back. You have experienced freedom, but we both know you miss me. I’ve seen the recordings of my cameras every single night. I miss you, too.”

You drew in a breath, and the terror subsided, somehow. You were strangely tranquil, but a small voice inside your head reasoned you were just going into shock.

“Come back to me, and there will not be consequences. At least, nothing that will harm you too badly. I do love you. Don’t make me go into that room...” something inside you shifted. You felt ready to puke, and still you felt relieved. Your heart hammered in your chest hopefully. That made the nausea increase.

Oh. The last sentences weren’t spoken by Francis. No, they were spoken with childish glee, and the noise came from outside the room you were in. Walking slowly towards the door, you began seeing his silhouette, which was progressively being lightened by the moonlight.

Shalnarks’ smile was still present, of course. His arms were wide open, inviting. One of his hands gripped his mobile like apparatus tightly, as if threatening to break it. His knuckles were white, but his eyes, once he spotted you, became warm.

You ran into his embrace, and he wrapped his body around yours as if it was destined to fit so perfectly around your whimpering self. 

You had truly missed him. He clinged to you, as if he had, too. You loved him, you knew. No denying that from now on. 

How beautifully caged you were, around his arms.


	2. Forgiveness. (Uvogin x reader)

You didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

A drunk Uvo rested his head on your lap, and you caressed his wild tresses gently. He hummed appreciatively at your touch, and still his chest heaved with every breath, making his body tremble while he struggled to control his emotions. 

Your movements weren’t supposed to be this caring. No, they were meant to be robotic and unloving. However, you couldn’t act indifferently after seeing his hunched figure when he entered your room, and his slight whimpering when he met your eyes. Your heart had clenched painfully when you saw him crumble before you. 

He was always so loud and so carefree, acting like a total brute, trying to make you smile by cracking a joke that you never found funny (he found dark humor entertaining, you did not). When he acted in such a way, it was easy to dismiss him or make him feel bad, because he didn’t seem to care about your actions. Seeing him now, you realised your words had harmed him more than you had intended to. 

Well, it had been your purpose to hurt him, but looking at him in such a state... it made you reconsider many things. He reminded you of a child, a huge one at that. A gentle giant, pliant in your arms, hoping for your attention and begging for forgiveness while showing vulnerability. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying...” it was a mere whisper, but it was enough to make you focus on him, and you quickly locked eyes. His hand rose to pet your head, and it ended up covering half your face. He was extremely warm, and the heat seemed to spread through you when he traced his thumb across your lower lip. 

Oh, if only he could be like this more often. 

“Uvo... the past can’t be forgotten easily.” You mumbled, remembering the way he clawed at you when he insisted on taking you away from everything you had ever known and grown to love. 

The look he gave you was enough to make you feel guilty. He truly seemed apologetic. You guessed he had been trying to make you feel better for the last few months, but you weren’t allowing him to come any closer to you. You couldn’t find the strength inside yourself to forgive him for all the damage he had caused. 

Strangely, you could understand him. He was a man that had grown up in the worst conditions, knowing nothing about love, confusing the feeling with that of obsession. Could you really blame him for the environment he was destined to live in? You guessed you could not. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had always been so weak, giving in to the desires of those who became helpless before you. This empathy you experienced was your downfall, and still you fell gladly. You felt the same sorrow Uvogin did, and understood his misunderstandings when it came to loving another. 

He was trying, after all. You would give him an opportunity. Lowering your forehead to his until they touched, you whispered above his lips the words of a woman who had lost everything in the fiery depths of hell and that had been reborn from the very ashes that once littered her path. 

“I could grow to love you.”


	3. Regret (Feitan x Reader)

Feitan considered himself to be a perfectionist - at least, when it came to the art of torture. For him, the slow process of hurting a human being was extremely satisfying. His nature was sadistic and therefore he relished in making his victims suffer. 

Oh, how they cried and whimpered before him, begging for some type of mercy, one he would not grant. It reminded him of older days, back in Meteor City, when he was inexperienced and daring, capturing those who held information valuable for the phantom troupe and experimenting with them.

His teenage years were over though, and as he practiced that talent of his, his methods became more ruthless, more calculated. Patient torturers were the most terrifying, for they had enough time on their hands to break a person. Feitan knew how human bodies worked, how much pain they could endure before falling unconscious or dying, and he used this to his advantage, always allowing his prey to recover before continuing his deeds. 

Feitan prided himself in his capacities, and was completely confident in them. _So_ , he wondered, _why weren’t you talking?_

He hadn’t crossed the line - he was absolutely sure about that - and still, you seemed broken. There was no light in your eyes, and your gaze was awfully lost. Unseeing, for the darkness was too thick and your spirit too weak. Had you given up?

Maybe, the realisation of him being part of an A-class bounty criminal gang had been too much for you. For you had followed him and admired him from afar for weeks before approaching him, telling him about your desires to become a hunter. You had practically begged for him to teach you nen, and although he had refused your advances in numerous occasions, your insistence and the bluntness that characterised your persona made your relationship master-student inevitable. He had pondered the thought of killing you at first, for you were too troublesome, but something strange flared in his chest at that, and Feitan realised he did not desire your death. 

He offered to train you then, and he could still remember the joy that lit your face, the sparkle in your eyes. Yes, you had trusted him. Feitan thought that had been foolish. This outcome, he mused, was to be expected. Even if he hadn’t been the one to strap you to a chair and torture you, anyone could’ve done so in a near future. Your innocence was too grand, your hopes for the future mere illusions. You used to babble for hours about what you wanted - what you would achieve. 

He wanted to laugh. It wasn’t his usual cackle, though. It was something more desperate, something bitter. _Look at what you have become_ , he wanted to scream, _you are nothing but a shell of what you once were._

It was true - there was no you left. You were awfully serious, face covered by blood. Your hair, once shiny and long, was now short and burnt, sticking to your paling cheekbones. You wouldn’t even _talk._

He remembered one summer afternoon, when he was spending time with you after a training session. The heat was scorching, and still you rattled away, unfazed by the blazing sun. 

“If you keep speaking, I’ll tear your tongue out” icy tone, dangerous snarl. 

You laughed it off, back then, “My only quality is my talkativeness.” He still thinks of that comment as absurd. You were much more than that. You were soft smiles and wide eyes. You were shiny hair and nice perfumes; soft curves and heartfelt laughs. You were sweaty skin he yearned to taste. 

Currently, there was nothing that reminded him of your older version - _where have you gone?_ \- and it was now, after all the damage had been done, when he felt something akin to regret. 

Feitan refused to admit the fear that consumed him, the anger that took control of his body, when he saw your horrified expression. You were disgusted, he knew, by the notion of him belonging to the Gen’ei Ryodan. When you told him about you leaving (you started acting cautiously around him), he felt the need to stop you. A thief takes what he wants, after all, and he refused to let you go. 

_You had it coming. At least, I am the one hurting you - I am someone you know. Doesn’t that make it better? Doesn’t that soothe the wounds I inflicted upon your skin, at least a bit?_

He knew you had felt betrayed by him. That had been the harshest blow - the admiration, the appreciation, amongst other things - all of it discarded and thrown away because of his impulsive decisions. He felt no pleasure with this torture session, but a twisted revulsion towards himself, one that coiled around his guts and squeezed. 

“Talk to me.” He demanded. Why, he did not know. Silence answered him, and then again “Just talk to me. ” A hint of necessity present in his voice, and still - nothing. 

As an afterthought:

“Please.” a word he hadn’t muttered in years, for it had never been useful. _That_ got a reaction, your eyes flickered just slightly, your fingers twitched. Somehow, hearing that from Feitan seemed to surprise you. You appeared to comprehend how rare it was for him to beg. 

Maybe it wasn’t too late to amend what he had damaged. Maybe, just maybe, he could make you talk to him again, in the same carefree manner you once did. 


	4. Unaware (Phinks x Blind! Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yandere Phinks x Blind! Reader.

The day was beginning, and although the alarm hadn’t gone off, you were already awake. The light that slowly entered your room warmed your skin, making the morning all the more pleasant.

Sitting up, you began to move around your apartment. There was no need for your cane. Inside your home, you could walk freely without the fear of tripping or losing your footing. Although you could not see anything, moving around your house was easy; as long as you kept everything in place, you knew where to go. Your body, most of the time, moved on its own. 

It was exhilarating, really; a wonderful feeling, truly liberating. 

You opened the fridge and reached for the milk. Turning towards the coffee machine, you placed one of the capsules inside, pushing a button for it to work. You waited for a while before stopping it, adding the milk quickly. The cup was soon placed on your kitchen’s counter while you searched for some biscuits to dip into the beverage. 

Rummaging through the cabinets, you became confused after noticing that your cookies were nowhere to be found. It was strange, for you always returned everything to its respective place. It was impossible for you to have left it anywhere else. You were too busy trying to remember if you had finished them yesterday to notice the other presence in the room. 

Phinks watched you from the furthest corner of the kitchen, holding the packet you were looking for in one hand. He stood still and barely breathed to ensure you wouldn’t notice his presence. Considering his position, he supposed he had to admit he had become a bit too obsessed with you. In his constant Zetsu state, free from the possibility of you noticing him, he could admire you with no shame.

Your movements were completely different from the first time he had seen you, your body moved with a confidence he hadn’t seen before. Phinks could almost imagine a future with you, and he wondered how long it would take for you to become accustomed to the home you both would surely share. 

It was too soon for that, though. You had to get to know him first, but that was the most difficult thing. He wasn’t that sociable, and meeting new people had never been his forte. Taking into consideration the fluttering that bloomed in his abdomen every time he saw you, he believed forming coherent sentences when talking to you would be impossible. 

Still, he reasoned, there was no need to think about those things. He could take you, now. He could hit the back of your head with enough strength to render you unconscious and steal you away - bring you to Meteor City. That was what he did best, after all. He knew, although he wasn’t the best at understanding human emotions, that you would struggle in the new circumstances you would have to face. However, he was sure you would be safe in his hometown. Under other circumstances, your blindness would be a death sentence in Meteor City. With his protection, no harm would come to you.

His hand twitched. You turned around, unaware of the man that was a breath away and his dark thoughts. You had decided to drink your coffee alone, and to go shopping later on, as there was nothing you could eat. You hummed a soft melody while sipping, dragging your fingertips along the counter to distract yourself. 

Phinks almost let out a growl. It would be so easy, to grab your hair and kiss you, to become enveloped in your scent. 

How would you react upon noticing he had been there all along? If you knew a stranger had been watching you for the past three weeks, breaking into your own home, eating your food, feeding your cat, holding your belongings and laying on the same bed you slept in every night? 

His thoughts seemed to come to a halt when one of the sleeves of your oversized t-shirt fell from your shoulder, exposing your left collarbone. His teeth ached. 

What if, as difficult as it could be for him at first, he tried to approach you as any other would? He would force himself into your life without you noticing, using his knowledge on your interests to manage this. Then, he would test the boundaries of friendship until they gave way, and Phinks would claim you as his.

His dark motives would be eclipsed by a thin veil of ignorance, and if you were unlucky enough to see through it...

He would still make you his, whether you liked it or not.


	5. Empathic. (Yandere Chrollo x reader)

Your body wasn’t fit for battle, you knew that much. You had no strength, no stamina, no speed. Still, it did not matter: you were no good fighting, but your talent resided elsewhere. 

You were incredibly empathic. 

Mirroring feelings, confusing them for your own, visualising the pain of others and understanding their circumstances. 

That was the reason why you decided to work for the police department, more specifically, in the forensics unit. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but when you saw the corpse of a victim (looked into their dead, unseeing eyes, slightly touched their skin) you recreated the scene of the murder in your mind as if you were the killer. 

It was a useless ability for fighting, but it saved so many lives. With your help, a serial killer could be caught in a short amount of time.

Not taking into consideration your mental exhaustion or the way you slowly lost yourself to the feelings of those who were inhumane, you forced yourself to keep working and touching the unfeeling bodies, trying to piece the untold stories together.

Empathy, however, was a vile thing. It was incredible, for not many possessed it, but it was a double edged sword. Depending on those who you were around, your personality changed. There was nothing you could do about it: if you mingled with nice people, you became incredibly sweet, if you were surrounded by criminals, you began thinking like them. So, becoming a murderer, even if it was just for a few seconds, destroyed your sense of morality and threatened to disrupt your sanity. Or, at least, it threatened the feeling of normality you were supposed to have, the one you desperately held on to in order to live in the society you faced. 

There was a darkness inside you, no doubt - you were aware of this. However, it might’ve bloomed because of your line of work. You couldn’t really distinguish your emotions from others’. Whenever you saw someone weaker than you, you vaguely wondered how it would feel to break them. Those thoughts made you shudder, and still you did not know if it was due to disgust or pleasure. 

Here you sat, facing yet another corpse. The stillness of death was almost poetic, the pale skin of the man and his glazed over eyes were beautiful, in a sick, twisted way. Morbid. 

“Chrollo Lucifer” the man spits his name like a curse. You aren’t familiar with it, though. It rings no bells. They dump his corpse as if it were trash. “The head of the Gen’ei Ryodan.”

Now, that surprises you. So, it seems as if the mighty spider leader has been caught and crushed. Your shoulders tremble slightly, the beginning of a laugh. Oh, the _irony_. 

“What happened?” You inquire. His eyes are so dark, like endless voids that fit his face perfectly well. You don’t have to touch this man-boy to know he had been like glass when he was alive, broken and sharpened with time. Deadly. 

“Murdered by the Zoldycks” the police man says, and still something pools in your gut at that. Your instinct tells you something is wrong. 

“The Zoldycks? No, I don’t think so.” Your voice is soft, a mere whisper. You have never been too loud. 

“What do you mean?” He taunts. He challenges you. It isn’t the first time this has happened - most men don’t believe any of your analysis. You feel a thrum of hatred, fuelled by thick, growing envy. 

_This man hates you for he is older than you, stronger than you, and still you prove him wrong._

“These injuries are too sloppy” you don’t look at him. Instead, you are consumed by the dead. “I have seen Zoldyck work before - it is refined, controlled, meticulous. They use their victims to advertise their business, after all. They show their abilities, and their expertise. This is a child’s doing - sloppy, sloppy.” Disinterest soon takes over your words, and you end up slurring them. 

“What are you implying? That another assassin killed them?” It is the plural that finally makes you understand there’s more victims. More dead spiders. You feel like giggling. 

“I’ll see it in a moment” you place you fingertips lightly on his pale chest - the contact is cold and firm. 

Nothing happens. 

This makes you frown. You have never experienced this before. It normally took the barest touch to make you visualise the killing. It’s strange, and therefore you try again. It proves to be futile. 

“Have you done anything to the body? Damaged it more?” That’s the only thing you can think of, but still it shouldn’t interfere with your ability. The police man looks at you weirdly, but shakes his head. 

“No, but I was tempted.” 

A shaky sigh escapes your lips. This doesn’t make sense. You have used this method with every single victim that has passed through the lab, no matter their age, gender, killer, or the fact that they use nen. Therefore, this can only mean that Chrollo Lucifer is not human, but thinking that is absurd. 

“Hand me the knife” you tell the man, holding out your hand. You have a very odd feeling about this. What if this is... a copy? When you are given the weapon, you hold it tightly with both hands and pierce his abdomen. You proceed to gut him with almost surgical precision. The horrified gasp that sounds next to you mirrors your own terror: there is nothing inside the corpse. “Its hollow.”

No blood, no organs, no muscle - just empty space, filled by a dark nen. Damn. 

“The bodies are fake.”

—————

The news spread quickly, but they aren’t treated with seriousness. Every single mafia member ignores them, talking about your mental state instead. 

_What an absurd assumption! Fitting for a marginal girl that relies on her gut and no facts!_

Its ridiculous, really. What they are saying, instead, is that the Zoldycks drained the Gen’ei Ryodan members from inside. Seriously, both theories were equally idiotic (or equally valid, if you knew about the existence of nen). The harsh reality is what it is: your ideas are ignored, discarded as if they were a mad woman’s. However, you can’t forget the emptiness of that stomach, the thrill of power that emanated from the nen that the body stored. 

It was truly a magnificent copy, beautifully crafted, detailed. A pity, the fact that it did not last more than two days. The mafia had gone crazy about it, believing the corpses to have been stolen. You supposed that thinking that made more sense than believing them to have disappeared into thin air. 

It has been three days since you had seen the body, two since the news had gone out into the world, only to crash on the ground before your feet. Your reputation is scarred. No one believes you, now, for this case has gained popularity, and therefore your bosses can only focus on your wild assumptions, instead of remembering your past victories against psychopaths. Also, the mafia has a huge influence among the high charges of the law. Both factors, you’re sure, will make your life a living nightmare from now on. 

You enter your apartment with a sigh, and throw your bag across the hall, not minding where it lands. You just want to get rid of some of your pent up frustration, caused by the ignorance of some people. 

When you turn towards your living room, you see them. There’s only three, but still their presence makes you freeze on the spot. They’re already watching you: the famous Lucifer, unwavering gaze going through you, is sitting on your sofa. Next to him, there is a blonde woman that is tall and slender. She has the face of an angel, and still holds two guns in both her hands. At Chrollo’s feet, a small child - or at least, what you believe to be a child - his hair is messy and you can barely see his left eye. 

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence, where you just stare at each other. You understand why they have broken into your home, though. Their master plan has been figured out, you have spread dangerous information that could’ve endangered their lives, and now you were going to die. Well, fine. You’ve been surrounded by death since the very beginning, you don’t mind her taking you away now. 

Hm, is this resignation yours, or are you mirroring their thoughts? You wonder, sometimes. 

You slowly take a seat in front of them, because you have a feeling that this is going to take a while, and because you know there is no point in fighting back when you are powerless against three members of an A-bounty criminal gang. 

Looking into the eyes of each of them, you feel a twinge of familiarity in one of their auras. 

“Did you do the copies?” You direct your question to the smallest of them all, ignoring the other two with a calmness you don’t normally feel. His response is a slight nod. “They were very well done. Very realistic. My congratulations to the artist.” A small flicker of amusement makes you curl your lips. The boy seems almost embarassed. 

How unexpectedly _fun_. 

“Paku.” Your attention snaps back to the leader. You know your eyes reflect his - bright intelligence, a twisted, dark humor. 

A hand is placed on your shoulder, and you don’t fight it. 

“How did you know?” Her voice is interesting, sensual but blunt. You like it. Her eyes are expressive, though. 

“Oh, so you’re the heart of the spider.” That unsettles her, it seems, if her slight furrowing of brows is anything to go by. “He is the head, I know. But you are the heart, slightly more empathic than the rest.” She seems surprised, and then, almost offended. 

“I could kill you, now.” Calm, but challenging. 

“I don’t doubt it. I never said you were a saint.” What were you, seeking death? You really were testing their patience. How long would a challenging fool last? Your eyes twinkled, excited. 

She seems a bit put off, but in a second she schools her expression. 

“Danchou, she has an interesting nen ability. She is an empath, acts like those around her, understands them, becomes them, if need be.” After speaking, she crosses her arms and walks back to her leader. 

_How pitiful, no more than a loyal dog_. Your chest rumbles: the beginning of a laugh. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He states, his expression seems unfazed, but you pick up the slight interest that flashes in his eyes.

“I am.”

“Aren't you scared?” he doesn't use a mocking tone, but one of genuine curiosity. You could bet your life on the fact that this man has never met someone that has had a reaction similar to yours. Surely, he has met cowards, fearful hostages, proud ones, too. Maybe one or two brave people. But a person that imitates his own behavior? You doubt it.

“Not really.” you answer. It is laced with a hint of amusement, you act out his inner feelings, but you are unable of controlling your expression. His face is as blank as could be, and it thrills you. “I don't like people like you, but I must admit I've met worse.”

“Oh?” you decide to take the bait, after a moment.

“I have seen many things during my career. I suppose it was to be expected, as I was diving right into the criminal world.” A breath. “I have seen mangled bodies with their faces twisted painfully due to torture. Small children that have been killed prematurely because of a man’s desires, necrophiliacs that used young girls for their own pleasure. Of course, some of these killers haven’t murdered as many as you and your friends have, but their methods are more terrifying. I have no doubt about it - you kill because you value material things - antiquities, scarlet eyes, whatever you desire - true, but there are monsters out there that harm for nothing at all. They dream about harming for the sake of it. Your group has done some heists throughout the years; but I see these crimes every day.”

“And still, you chose this path.”

“And still, I chose this path.” You agree.

“Why? When you could’ve avoided it?” 

“Why, indeed?” You muse, think out loud, because you don’t really know what made you want to doom yourself in such a way. “I’m good at it, I suppose. I can help people.” Was that what motivated you, a long time ago? Possibly. “Would you have avoided being a thief, if your circumstances had been different?”

Silence stretched between you. His expression grew unexpectedly cold, but you did not feel fear. 

“What does that matter, anyway?” His inner turmoil was perfectly masked, but the air had changed drastically. 

“I suppose it doesn’t.” Your voice took a turn, from mocking to infuriatingly humble. “Well, what brings you here? I guess you were planning on killing me?”

“Not really.” His tone was nonchalant, even if his eyes were still distant (and so very alive). “I wanted to steal your ability, but I’m not interested in that, anymore.”

It is your turn to look surprised. What confused you wasn’t only the fact that he had used the term to ‘steal’, but the new glimmer that lightenened his features. You cocked your head to the side, intrigued despite the knowledge that you should fear for your well being. 

“Paku, Kortopi, go outside for a moment.” It takes a second and then they’re gone, leaving the room strangely empty. The window has been opened, and the cold air chills you to the bone. The spider head is quick to close it. Chrollo walks gracefully, with a confidence not many possess, and when he turns, he walks towards you. 

Feeling slightly intimidated by his composure, you find yourself lowering your head and watching his every movement as he inevitably moves closer. This man is dangerous. There is no doubt about it. Maybe you were wrong: maybe you should consider this thief to be more cruel than all those psycothic killers you were forced to become every day, because he was not blinded by humane desires. Instead, he was aware of every single one of his actions: he was maddeningly calculating, and he has enough power to take and take and take. 

A shudder runs down your spine, and you see his eyes following the movement of your trembling body. You had been foolish, you realise, allowing yourself to be swept by the presence of three thieves that overflowed confidence and wickedness. 

“So you truly lose yourself to people, then.” He smirks slightly, the slightest hint of teeth. He looks like a predator. “I wonder - if you stay by my side, what will you become on the long-run?”

Panic fills your brain - you’ve become prey. 


	6. Bandages (Caring Feitan x reader)

His hands were surprisingly gentle as he bandaged your bloody arm. 

It was nothing too serious. At least, you didn’t think it was. However, you were very careless, unbothered by your own safety in fights. The last battle, mere moments ago, was a clear indicator of your recklessness. You had won against the chimera ant, but it only took a moment of doubt for the humanoid creature to attack, slicing your skin several times. 

The cuts weren’t that deep, but they were numerous, and therefore there was a lot of blood. You were grateful for the fact that it wasn’t a poisonous blade like Chrollo’s, because if that had been the case, the whole outcome of the mission would’ve been different. 

Feitan wasn’t very expressive, so it surprised you the reaction he showed when he spotted you after Zazan’s death. It had been so bizarre it had taken you a moment to understand that his worry was directed towards you.

After the whole ordeal and the bickering with Phinks, you had all gone further into Meteor City (home sweet home, you couldn’t help but think, your features turning into a snarl), and to your respective places. You were about to go with Shizuku for a walk but something stopped you. 

He had moved rapidly, and in a motion you could not follow, he interlocked your fingers with yours. 

Was he possessed? Under the effect of some sort of manipulation?

Your confusion must’ve been clear on your face, because he looked away from you. His eyes pierced the floor, but his deadly aura seemed to have quitened down. There was only a slight throbbing of power that surrounded Feitan, not the suffocating presence you were used to. He tried to pull away from you, as if regretting his impulsive decision, but instinctively you held onto his slender fingers, keeping them in place. 

“You have to heal your arm.” He muttered the words, but you had heard him just fine. His broken accent made you smile, and your gaze softened. He was clearly concerned, but his cold demanor didn’t allow him to acknowledge his confusing feelings. He fought them, instead. Pushed them down, trying (and failing) to hide them deep inside until they disappeared forever. 

“Oh, yes. But don’t worry. It looks nasty, but it doesn’t hurt much.” What a ridiculous image you had probably given out to the world - two spiders barely holding hands, a short man that lowered his head as if defeated before a smiling fool. 

“I don’t worry.” He snarled, freeing himself from your steady grip. You felt bubbly laughter accumulating in your chest, threatening to overflow and tumble past your lips. You managed to control yourself, widening your smile instead. 

_And still, it seems as if you do._

You didn’t dare mutter the words, though. You knew he would take them as an insult, as if you were mocking him for his vulnerability. 

“Will you cure me, then?” There was a hint of a challenge in your tone, and before you could stop it, your expression twisted in a teasing way. 

Feitan scoffed and pulled you away, grabbing your damaged arm to punish you. He seemed to relish in the pained yelps that slipped off your lips as you tried to dissuade him from pushing you around. 

Here you were, now, being treated by him. His grip is steady and he does not falter in his ministrations, squinting his eyes in concentration. It’s quite ridiculous, you muse, for a torturer to heal, and still you find yourself giving in to his actions. 

He cleans the wounds first, and it stings for a bit, but you don’t even twitch. The bandages go next, and then, after he carasses your wrapped arm with his thumb, something that makes your mind go blank for a second, he stands up and leaves. 

Your forearm feels hot, strange to the touch. It tingles a bit, but it is something triggered by a pleasurable feeling. Its foreign, but you don’t dislike it. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, and you can’t understand the reason why you flush so deeply, or the odd warmth that spreads through your chest. It seems to settle, after a moment, but it doesn’t quite fade away. It rests next to your frenzied heart, that doesn’t seem to calm it’s beats. 

How terribly troublesome. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, you think that no, you must’ve imagined the way his finger had touched you, as if soothing the pain. How his eyes had seemed open and exposed. 

Feitan had been acting weird today - very weird indeed. 


	7. A pity. (Razor x reader)

It was quite ironic, and also frustratingly tragic, how a single moment could ruin your life forever. It only took a couple of seconds to take a man’s life – and the next instant, you are being held down, called a death row convict, and given a complex choice: to die, or to live a little longer. 

In your defense, you had to say that the men you killed had stumbled in their drunken stupor, one of them rambling incoherent things while clutching a broken glass bottle of some type of alcohol in a flimsy hand. He had gestured wildly, his clothes already soaked with the blood of some girls he had attacked earlier. Adrenaline had coursed through your body, and you shook wildly, like a trembling leaf, when his bloodied hands had tried to come for you. 

What else could you have done? Self defense had been your only option. If not, you had no doubt he would have killed you, too. So, after being charged with the men’s deaths, you had been pushed around and given the option to live or to die. You chose the former. Some prison guards had guided you into a boat, saying you had been chosen, alongside a handful of other criminals, to participate in a game called Greed Island. 

They didn’t inform any of you in detail. The only instruction you received was that of following the direct orders of a man you had to refer to now as ‘Boss’. 

When you met Razor, you had been shocked. The amount of power he held was truly shocking, and it was what kept you away from him. In many occasions he had tried to start a conversation, but your social skills were horrible, and you were scared of his threatening aura. His smile also gave you chills, because you feared the moment he would turn serious. 

You had seen him kill Bopobo, after all, and his cheerfulness had faltered that moment. He had seemed so cruel – remembering his words, still to this day, made you shudder. 

_Did he think I wouldn’t follow through? Fool!_

It wasn’t as if you had liked Bopobo: he was a rapist and a murderer, and he found pleasure in making others bow down before him. His idiotic ego took control of him in many occasions. However, seeing his head literally _explode_ before your eyes left a gruesome memory on your mind. 

Some time had passed after that incident, and you had grown colder. You kept your distance, away from every single one of them. The pirates, your boss, the adversaries you were supposed to challenge. You brushed them all aside, because ignoring them made living a little easier. You were still in denial – everything seemed so unfair. Your motives for killing had been different from the other pirates’, and still you had been forced to live their same fate. You had killed out of necessity, not because you enjoyed killing. 

Whenever your training finished, instead of going to the nearest pub with all the others, you sat down near the cliff and thought about how different everything could’ve been until your vision became clouded with tears. 

“Hey” he was as nonchalant as ever, but you almost jumped out of your skin upon hearing his voice, “What’s wrong?” turning around, you were met by his ever-present smile. Sometimes you wondered if his happiness was genuine. 

Wiping your tears away in a furious manner, you went back to staring at the ocean.

“Nothing important, boss.” You muttered, hoping he’d leave you alone. Your hair was standing on end, cold sweat threatening to break. He was at least twice your size, and he was incredibly strong. You had every right to feel intimidated. 

Unfortunately, he sat down beside you. If you hadn’t been so on edge you probably would’ve found the sight quite comical: a hunk of a man bent forward, staring right at you, clutching his knees to prevent from toppling backwards. 

“I’ve seen you have been ignoring us, lately. More importantly, ignoring me.” His smile seemed to falter for a second. A chill went down your spine. 

“No – Not really” you managed to choke out, “I don’t mean to ignore you, at least.” Your lie was clear, and you cringed internally. His chest rumbled, but he did not seem amused. “No, what I mean is – I follow your orders. At least, I try to.”

You were stating the truth. You followed his every command when it came to the island’s activities. You completed every chore, and tried your best at those who you deemed impossible (your physical condition wasn’t the greatest, so you had to work within your bodies limitations). However, you knew what he was referring to, and still decided not to understand. 

“Yes, your work is great.” You exhaled shakily, frightened by what was to come. “But you know that’s not what I mean. Why are you avoiding everyone?”

Why, indeed? You felt like laughing, but decided against it, for you knew it would come out quite hysterical. Should you tell him? Trust this boss of yours? You knew he would not leave without a proper answer, so, collecting your last ounces of confidence, you decided to tell him. 

“It’s just… I don’t really want to be here.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his serious expression. You gulped, but still continued, albeit reluctantly. “I’m not a _real_ criminal. I don’t like killing. The reason why I’m here is just because I was at the wrong place at the wrong time - ” a horrid sob clawed up your throat, and you tried in vain to stifle it. “ – I’m just very afraid, Razor.”

You turned to him for the first time, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. You hadn’t even noticed you had used his first name, instead of using the usual formalities. Feeling hot tears fall freely, you quickly turned away, rubbing your face harshly. How humiliating. Taking deep breaths, you slowly regulated your breathing. The tears were still present, but at least the pressure in your chest vanished.

Suddenly, a hand was placed on your thigh. 

You whipped your head, fast, and wondered how the momentum hadn’t broken your neck. He was staring at you, and his eyes, which you were now capable of seeing, were penetrating. You could not look away, not even when his thumb began to caress the inside of your thigh slowly, causing shivers to run along your skin. His smile, you noted, had returned, and it was almost innocent.

“A pity, the fact that you were charged unfairly. But –“ his hand began to grip your flesh, and although it wasn’t painful, it was meant to be a warning “- you now have the opportunity to live. If it hadn’t been for this game, you would’ve been dead. Also, I must warn you: if you refuse to interact with the others, or with me, I will have no other choice but to kick you out, and then you _will_ be facing death. No second chances.”

You stood completely still, frozen by the realisation that Razor could fire you, which meant the death sentence would be applied in the outside world, if you did not do what he asked. Yes, you could not forget he had been a murderer some years ago, and therefore he could be cold-blooded when necessary. It took a moment for you to realise the threatening aura that had been suffocating you had disappeared, allowing you to breathe once more. His hand was now wrapped around your leg, enveloping it, threateningly close to your groin. Your breath quickened, aroused, and he seemed to comprehend your change in attitude, because he widened his smirk. 

He let you go, and you immediately missed the warmth he had provided. 

“You can decide against talking to the other pirates” he began as he stood up, “but if you ignore me again, your actions will have consequences. You won’t be capable of blaming anybody but yourself, then.” You did not doubt his earnestness, but you spotted a hint of mischievousness in his tone. It was as if he _dared_ you to try.

You could not understand the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach, or the heat that spread through your body upon hearing his words. Just like that he stood up, leaving you alone, watching his retreating form while you willed your heartbeat to calm down. 


End file.
